


Linguaphile

by grim_lupine



Series: Stepbrothers AU [3]
Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a million and one things to understand in Mark, the whispers in the set of his mouth and the careful touch of his hands; the constant turmoil of what he doesn’t say underneath what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Linguaphile

-

\--

Eduardo has a very interesting relationship with Mark’s different levels of articulacy.

It goes a little something like this.

*

Mark likes to talk. It’s not that he’s an especially voluble or communicative person, because really, Mark is so single-minded that he can go an entire afternoon working on a project and say a sum total of five words to Eduardo; but Eduardo knows that he likes to argue, he likes shutting someone down with his wit and his words. He likes being the most articulate person in the room.

This works out rather well, because it turns out that Eduardo loves listening to Mark talk, about anything and everything, really. He loves it when Mark scowls at whatever improbable movie they’re watching at the moment and proceeds to savagely pick it apart for Eduardo’s benefit (“Jesus, this is appalling. _I_ could make a more realistic movie than this, and most people would agree my understanding of human nature is decidedly limited at best—oh, for god’s sake, his brother’s sleeping with his wife, of course he is, didn’t I tell you that half an hour ago?”). He loves watching Mark’s mouth move, his brow furrow as he narrows his eyes in concentration and calculation.

It’s the reminder, sometimes, that Mark is just _so_ fucking _smart_. The way he goes back-and-forth with Adam, the two of them like a particularly eloquent pair of verbal duelists, clearly enjoying the hell out of themselves as they pick each other apart; Eduardo loves to just listen to it, aware that on some level they’re performing a little for his benefit. They want him there, they want him to be impressed.

Or there’s the times when Eduardo slides into bed next to Mark, fingers keeping his place in a paperback, except he always ends up just dropping his book in distraction because he’s too busy watching Mark type. Mark scoots and makes room for him, and Eduardo slides a little until his head is on Mark’s chest, and he says through a half-yawn, “Tell me what you’re working on.”

“You wouldn’t really understand it,” Mark says absently, and coming from anyone else that might be insulting, but Mark is just stating an indisputable fact. Mark does things that are so far beyond Eduardo’s understanding it leaves him a little breathless. Mark is focused on his code and absent when he talks to Eduardo, but his foot is slowly nudging under Eduardo’s ankle, like he doesn’t even need to think about it to do it. Like it’s instinctive.

“Tell me anyway,” Eduardo says, and tucks his leg in closer and feels the comforting buzz of Mark’s words vibrating through his chest, listens to Mark adroitly lay out the workings of his world because Eduardo asked it of him.

*

Mark likes to make Eduardo ask for what he wants, he holds off until Eduardo thinks he might just crumble where he lies under the force of his need. He likes coaxing the words from Eduardo’s mouth; he always looks up at Eduardo when he’s done with the glitter of triumph in his eyes, and his smugness shouldn’t be appealing at all, but there’s no other explanation for why Eduardo is always overcome with the need to kiss him senseless when he sees it.

When it’s _Eduardo_ pushing Mark down and forcing him to stay still while Eduardo sucks him off as slowly as he can, Mark needs no encouragement to speak. He is demanding and unabashed and he says things like “Wardo, I need _more_ ,” and “Wardo, put your fingers in me,” and Eduardo loves it, he will never tire of hearing Mark say it. He likes knowing that Mark is utterly and completely aware of what he wants—and that what he wants is Eduardo.

“I hate you,” Mark pants, looking flushed and indignant when Eduardo pulls his fingers out, and the way he pushes his hips up a little to try and follow Eduardo’s hand so clearly belies his words that Eduardo has to hide a grin against Mark’s thigh. He knows Mark feels it anyway, because Mark huffs out a fervent, “Don’t think I’m not making note of this, Wardo. Appropriate ret—retribution will be awarded.” His voice breaks a little in the middle.

“I’m terrified,” Eduardo says very seriously, pushing his fingers back inside Mark and watching the movement of his throat as he swallows, hard. “Absolutely shaking.”

“You should be. I’m devising a fitting response as we speak,” Mark says, very determinedly making it through the words though he has to stop and breathe halfway through, and oh, Eduardo knows this mood—Mark at his most stubborn, trying to prove that he can keep up with any conversation even while they’re in the middle of _this_. He can, too. It’s amazing. Eduardo loves it.

“Really? That’s some impressive multi-tasking you’ve got going, Mark,” Eduardo says, then puts his mouth back on Mark’s cock and watches Mark choke on whatever response he’d been intending to voice.

“Well I’m just impressive—in general,” Mark grits out, and that is the last bit of coherence he manages before he’s gasping out a shuddering breath and coming in a hot rush inside Eduardo’s mouth. Eduardo chokes a little, spills some of it down his chin. He pulls his fingers out carefully and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Mark’s breath hisses through his teeth, and he’s watching Eduardo’s movements with eyes that are fighting through the bleariness of orgasm to focus with narrow intent. Eduardo feels his skin prickle under that look, as heavy as a touch.

“I suppose you aren’t so bad yourself,” Mark says generously after a moment, breaking the silence, eyes glinting with humor and affection; and Eduardo collapses into his side, buries his face in Mark’s shoulder and laughs himself breathless. Mark and his mouth, he can’t let even the afterglow rest peacefully, and Eduardo would have him no other way.

*

So much of Mark’s talking is wordless, though. It’s another kind of language, the subtle tilt of his head, the assessing look in his eyes. The arch of his eyebrows. Eduardo considers himself an adept, intends to become thoroughly fluent.

Mark nudges Eduardo’s foot under the table every morning when he’s still too asleep to form words, and it means _Good morning_. He helps Eduardo’s mother in the kitchen sometimes, and stands a little close and waits for her to fold her arms around him, like he still thinks he has to trick her into showing him affection or something. Sometimes when Eduardo is brooding, Mark will sit by him and bump his shoulder and fix him with a look that says _Your father is an idiot, and I won’t say it but you know that I’m saying it on the inside_.

Mark doesn’t tell anyone when he needs more sleep or needs something to eat, but Eduardo watches for the tremor in his hands, the faint bruising under his eyes, the irritable set of his mouth.

Any time Mark is caught staring out the window for a length of time, he’s thinking about his mother.

The slow, careful glide of Mark’s fingers over Eduardo’s back when Eduardo is on the verge of falling asleep, a touch that brings a lump to his throat with the reverence in it, and even if Mark were to never say it out loud again, it’s all the _I love you_ Eduardo will ever need.

Eduardo amasses it all. He wants to learn all of it until it’s bone-deep and utterly instinctual, until he breathes every nuance of Mark there is to know.

*

The first time Eduardo fucks him, Mark goes soundless and utterly still, hands locking white-knuckled into the sheets.

“Mark, Mark, did I hurt you?” Eduardo says frantically, because he has never seen Mark look like this—huge-eyed and a little dazed and kind of like he’s forcing himself to hold everything inside or else it would be too much.

Then Mark exhales, a trembling little shake of a breath, and says in a slightly wobbling voice, “Don’t be an idiot, Wardo. And if you stop I’ll—I’ll put a _virus_ on your laptop.” That this is the direst threat Mark can think of is patently obvious, and Eduardo laughs breathlessly, a helpless surge of affection taking him over like a tidal wave.

Mark goes back to telling Eduardo exactly when, where and how he wants him; but whenever Eduardo thrusts inside him, daring to be less cautious each time, Mark shuts his mouth immediately, and Eduardo can _see_ him swallowing down all his words. Eduardo is _inside_ Mark, and if he weren’t already consumed by the enormity of that, he’d feel it in the way Mark is holding himself still and just staring up at Eduardo, cock hard against his stomach, mouth a little slack and shocked like he’s forgotten his own name. Actually, it’s like Eduardo’s made him forget how to speak at _all_ , with his words or even his body—Mark can’t order Eduardo to move, and he can’t squirm around, he can’t pull him in closer. All Mark can do is fist his hands in the sheets and _react_.

Eduardo loves the sound of Mark’s voice, but he loves this too—the reminder that Eduardo was here first; that this is all Eduardo’s; that Mark, who is so articulate and brilliant and beautiful, will break for _Eduardo_. Only Eduardo.

When Mark comes, he lets out this half-noise, a broken little sound that Eduardo _has_ to lean down to steal right from his lips, licking his mouth open for the taste of it. Mark’s stomach is wet with his come, and Eduardo is helpless to do anything but shudder through his own orgasm barely a minute afterward.

The flick of Mark’s fingers against Eduardo’s side, the little _hmmm_ of discontent he makes when Eduardo has to pull out, the careful way he fidgets with the covers so Eduardo can slide right back in next to him. The way he says “Wardo,” like it means something else entirely. He’s found his voice again.

Eduardo made Mark go speechless, in every sense of the word.

It’s both the scariest and the best thing he’s ever done.

*

There are a million and one things to understand in Mark, the whispers in the set of his mouth and the careful touch of his hands; the constant turmoil of what he doesn’t say underneath what he does.

Eduardo will listen and listen and listen until he has learned them all, however long it might take him.

He will settle for no less than forever.

\--

-


End file.
